


An Ill-Advised Wager

by HowardR



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: (Including relationships), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Bets & Wagers, F/F, F/M, Family, I promise I'll make it up to him some day, I'm sorry there's no donald, Lena is my fav so where is she?, Louie Duck Needs a Hug, Louie Duck-centric, Louie is actually the best boy, POV Third Person, Tags May Change, is scrooge there? is he dead? IDK, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26148334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: Louie Duck has short, curly hair that flops tiredly in front of his left eye, and he twirls it around his finger.Webby thinks that maybe this could work.(The triplets are grown, Webby has never been in McDuck Manor, and Louie has just asked her on a date.)
Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Lena & Webby Vanderquack, Lena (Disney: DuckTales)/Webby Vanderquack, Minor Louie Duck/Webby Vanderquack
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Trouble, Right?

It started, really, with the boy outside the cafe.

Later, Lena would claim it started when they met and Webby had asked after her thrift shop jewelry. Dewey would say it started with the ruby red ring. Huey would want it to be because of the rainstorm that had caused them all to stay in - just a coincidence.

But really, it started with the boy outside the cafe, with his easy smile and curly hair and tales of adventure.

It had been a regular day for Webby Vanderquack - a name she would have been bullied mercilessly for, if she had attended any form of formal schooling. She had gone to the cafe, waited tables, smiled at customers, and introduced herself at least a dozen times. That last one was probably the main reason that she loved the job so much.

  
Well, that, and also the interesting characters she got to meet.

She had stepped outside to go home, and her grin had slipped, a little.

She loved rain. And rainstorms. And hurricanes. And any dangerous weather, really. Though she also loved safe weather… and sunny weather…

Point was, she liked rain.

Until she had to actually walk a mile in it.

As a kid, maybe she would have enjoyed that, too. But she had mellowed in her adulthood (kinda) and getting soaking wet no longer had the same appeal.

She sighed, hiking up her thread loose bag and preparing to dive out into the soaked afternoon. Maybe if she ran, she wouldn’t get  _ too _ wet.

“Nice day, huh?”

She startled something awful, whipping her head around with a hand already on the dagger in her belt.

_ (Strangers are danger, strangers are danger, strangers are danger.) _

But the boy leaned against the cafe  _ (her _ cafe), half draped in shadow, simply smiled easily at her.

He had a very easy slouch to him that Webby admired, a little. She could read at a glance just how relaxed he was, though there was also a kind of tension in his spine that she didn’t quite recognize. Which was an achievement in and of itself - granny had taught her to recognize just about anything. His hair, curly and dark brown, flopped in front of his face just as easily as his arms draped at his sides. He had a light, golden tan, and there were thin barely-there golden scars tracing his wrists and eyelids.

Strangers are danger, but if she introduced herself, they weren’t strangers anymore!

“Hi!” She chirped. “I’m Webby.”

She offered her hand excitedly with a grin.

The boy smiled his easy smile a little wider as he shook it. Some of that strange tension dispersed from his posture, too.

“Louie. Louie Duck.”

She ran through a tiny wheel of thoughts in record time.

“Wait - Duck? As in, _Scrooge_ _McDuck’s Nephew?”_

He raised an eyebrow, smile fading a little again. Tension in his spine again.

Weird.

“Present, and accounted for apparently.” He pulled his hand back and fiddled with one of his curls. “How do you know me and my folks?”

“Oh! Researching the McDuck family is kinda my hobby.” She said, scrubbing her toe against the concrete. “Sorry. That’s probably weird.”

Louie waved her off. “Eh, no biggie. Forget it.”

There was barely a pause before the questions began to spill out of her.

“Do you go on adventures with your Great Uncle? Does he really swim in money? What about your uncle Donald, does he help? Do you get treasure? Do you fight dragons? How many mummies have you seen?”

Louie titled his head back with a smile.

“Yes, yes, sometimes, often, of  _ course, _ and only three but they were real pieces of work.”

She sifted through the information while he stuck his hands in his pockets.

  
She opened her mouth for another string, but Louie cut her off at the pass.

“Listen - Webby, was it? - I would love to keep reminiscing, but we’ve got a long walk to talk through.”

And he lifted an umbrella casually.

Her brain functions skidded to a halt as her manners instantly kicked in.

“Oh, really? Geez, you’re a lifesaver - you really don’t have to walk me all the way, I’ll be fine in the rain-”

Louie walked to the edge of the canopy (she thought there might be another name for the little protected area outside restaurants, but canopy sounded cooler) and lifted the umbrella invitingly, opening it with a smooth motion.

“Coming?”

She smiled, wide and bright, and hiked up her bag as she skidded over.

* * *

“I don’t even know what to ask first!”

Louie chuckled, fiddling with the ruby red trust ring in his pocket. It hadn’t started heating up yet, so this ‘Webby’ character probably wasn’t one of the more manic, insane fans. Well, she might be manic, but not insane, at least. Plus, she seemed cool enough.

“Well, people usually start with the dragons.” He offered, as helpfully as a chaos spirit like him could. Which was pretty helpful, considering.

Oh, and he wasn’t being literal about the chaos spirit thing. That felt important to clarify, considering that they actually existed.

Webby squealed quietly.

_ “Dragons!” _

He chuckled again.

He might just like this Webby chick.

“I know. That was my reaction when I saw one. Well, my internal reaction, anyway.”

His real-world response was grabbing the Medusa Gauntlet. It had kinda stung that his dearest brothers thought he was stealing, but he couldn’t exactly blame them.

“How many dragons have you fought?”

Webby was practically  _ shivering _ with excitement, taut as a bowstring and on the edge of her metaphorical seat.

“Well, we’ve met at least two dozen at this point, though they’re actually quite friendly occasionally.”

Usually this development was disappointing to fans - when he took the time to humour them, which he usually couldn’t when Dewey and Captain Buzzkill were around - but Webby simply got  _ more _ excited.

“Do they have british accents?”

She seemed to barely stop herself from spilling another million questions.

Since he was evil, he considered carefully before answering. Webby looked close to imploding with impatience.

“Some.”

And another question flew out in an instant.

“How do you kill one?”

“There’re a lot of ways.”

“Like what?”

“Turning to stone, cutting off their head - tomatoes, in one memorable instance.”

Webby looked like she couldn’t decide which one to ask about first.

He slipped the ring on and pulled his hand out of his pocket. It would start to get clammy in there soon.

“Alright, Webbigail.” He stopped. “This is your stop, I believe.”

Webby deflated in record time.

“But I wanted to hear stoooooories!”

He smirked.

“Well, how about this:”

Webby instantly perked up again, and nearly tipped over when he leaned in conspiratorially.

“I’ll come over to the cafe every day - you work there, right?”

She nodded excitedly.

“And when your shift is over, I’ll tell you a daring story of  _ adventure.” _

Webby looked like she might boil over with happiness.

“Really? Ohmygod,  _ thank you so much _ \- you won’t regret this, Mr. Duck!”

“Louie.” He corrected absent-mindedly, picking some lint off his jacket as she hopped up the steps.

“Webby!” She called, before closing the door dramatically.

He chuckled again.

This, he could already tell, was going to be the highlight of his Summer.

* * *

“Ah, dearest Lewellyn!”

“I will unhinge your jaw, Dewey.”

Huey Duck valiantly repressed the laugh that threatened to bubble up.

This was going to be interesting.

“So… you’re a  _ ladies man, _ right?”

Louie casually leaned against the wall, raising a tired eyebrow.

“Do you need me to be your wingman, Dewey?”

This time, the snort caught him off guard and managed to leave him. Dewey sent him a betrayed look, which he tried not to laugh at.

He was supposed to be the unbiased one, after all.

“I don’t need  _ you _ to help me get women, Louie.” Dewey said with a light glare.

Louie tilted his head.

“Bad mood?”

Louie had hit the nail on the head.

_ “But,” _ Dewey said - Huey knew that Louie had caught the fact that he hadn’t answered. “I do have a bit of a… dare, to propose.”

This time, Louie grinned.

“What is it you desire, oh dearest brother?

“I would like to suggest you both  _ don’t _ do this.” He cut in.

They ignored him.

“Whoever gets a date within the week,” Dewey said, leering confidently, “wins.”

Louie played with one of his hairs.

“And what do they win?”

Dewey grinned.

“The ring.”

Instantly, Louie went dead still.

“That isn’t yours to bet.”

Dewey didn’t recognize the dangerous timbre that was in Louie’s perfectly still voice, too drunk on his own bruised, but in-tact, ego.

Louie’s hand fiddled with the ring in question, stuck on his finger - Huey noted that for the first time.

He tried to surreptitiously send Dewey a ‘don’t’ gesture. He didn’t catch it.

“Says who?” Dewey countered, drawing himself up while still managing to leer. Huey began to back up a little, sensing an incoming tussle with the instinct of a brother. “We found it  _ together, _ Lewellyn. You have no right-”

_ “I _ killed the monster!” Louie crowed. A familiar amber-gold sparked in his eyes, and Dewey drew back a little - seemingly only just now realizing that he had long since crossed a line.  _ “I _ found the treasure! I  _ saved us, _ and you want to keep  _ my _ keepsake!?”

But Dewey, no matter how good he was at reading Louie’s temper, didn’t know when to back down.

“It  _ isn’t. Yours!  _ It’s  _ ours! _ We found the map, we rushed into the temple-”

“Like  _ idiots, _ with  _ barely any equipment!” _

“With  _ confidence, _ without anything to loose - and  _ you _ drop in at the last minute and steal  _ everything!” _

Suddenly, Louie went very still.

“...Like I always do, right Dewey?”

Huey winced.

Dewey suddenly drew back, his posture suddenly slackening into weakness.

“Louie, I didn’t mean-”

“No. No, it’s fine. I get it.” Louie said, posture going easy again and lazy grin returning. “I always was the evil triplet. Trouble, right?”

He chuckled.

“That’s not-” Dewey tried, advancing a step gingerly. Like Louie was a scared animal.

“Sure, I'll take that bet. Anyway, I’ve gotta go.” Louie said quickly, jerking a thumb behind him. “Got stuff to do.”

None of them thought for a moment that the rain would stop him, as he slung the door open a little more strongly then was necessary.

“Louie-!”

But Louie was gone, out the door. Which might as well have meant he had went to Pandemonium.

Dewey slumped.

Huey opened his mouth.

“...Well-”

_ “Shut it.” _

Huey did.


	2. Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louie tells his first story.

When she next saw Louie, it was different then she expected.

First, she had expected him to be waiting outside again. Secondly, the change in attire was a bit of a surprise too. And thirdly, there was no thirdly but it sounded better in her head if she listed three.

“Mr. Duck?!”

“Louie.” He corrected absently, fingers dancing along his oddly scarred wrists.

“Louie?!?!?!”

“Webbigail.”

“What’re you doing in here?”

He glanced up and gave her notepad a pointed look.

“Oh! Uh, can I take your order?”

“Tea, please.”

“Would you like milk and sugar?” She said, barely containing her excitement. She was serving  _ the _ Louie Duck!

Oh, she’d have to record how he took his tea, and then how his great uncle took  _ his _ tea, and maybe ask if he preferred Pep or Diet Pep-

_ Focus, Webby - tales of adventure, remember? _

“No, thanks.” He said with a smile.

It was odd. She had heard that the infamous Louie Duck, already half-running Scrooge’s business and well on his way to inheriting it, was far less… nice.

But he was just fiddling with one of his hairs easily, one leg folded over the other and waiting for his tea.

Oh geez, his tea!

“Coming right up!”

She had never run to the kitchen faster.

* * *

Louie was good at some things.

He was aware of that, somewhere in the back of his mind. That there were things he was good at. Being a member of Clan McDuck pretty much automatically meant that he knew what to do with quite a few obscure instruments of destruction. He could also run Uncle Scrooge’s business like no other and was getting a few new wings of it built with some property in town, including an expansion of the booming lemonade wing.

But he more meant that every one of his little gang - every triplet - had something they were good at, which was reflected in their inheritance.

Dewey got the wing of secrets - or the things in it, at least - and the general spoils of adventure, including everything in the money bin except the bin itself. Louie was refilling it quickly, but still. Huey was good at organizing and dealing with a large amount of space and variables. He was smarter then the smarties, after all. Hence, he got all the non-profit property. And Louie…

Louie could bottle shit up. Could keep all his emotions right here, and hide them from the world.

He was happy it worked on everyone, including Scrooge. Once, his dear brothers had been able to tell whenever he was sulking, but now - unless he had an outburst like he had last night - they could hardly tell what mood he was in.

It was good. Because showing Webby that he was feeling a hell of a lot that he wasn’t going to inspect was something he didn’t find appealing.

And a hot cup of tea and some story-telling would do him some good.

He had been told he was good at telling stories.

* * *

Webby sat down across from her idol (well, her idol was probably Dewey, but Louie was a close third) and tried to repress her excitement to just vibrating in her seat.

She clasped her palms and made tiny noises as Louie slowly sipped at his tea, and smiled down at the cup.

“Mm. That’s good.”

_ She had made that tea. _

_ And Louie Duck had complimented it. _

“Thanks!” She chirped, barely stopping herself from squealing.

He glanced up from the cup and raised an eyebrow at her, sending her a pleased half-tilt of his lips.

“You made this?”

“Yep!” She said, trying to tamp down on her pride.

He leaned forward and crossed his arms against the table, peering directly at her with a lazy, pleased smile.

“Well, my compliments to the chef, then.”

It reached his eyes.

The smile, she meant. She had noticed the last few smiles hadn’t, though she had ticked it off as her imagination.

But this one reached all the way up to his eyes, and made them crinkle and sparkle, just a little.

She couldn’t respond, because if she opened her mouth she might just scream and that would maybe get her fired.

Louie tilted back again and scooted his now half-empty cup forward, seemingly done with it for now.

“Now, I believe I owe you a story?”

She grinned excitedly.

“Yes, please!”

He chuckled.

“Hmm…”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“...Well, how about  _ you _ pick a story?” He said suddenly.

She blinked.

“But… I don’t know what they are?”

He smiled at her again, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes all the way this time.

“Well, pick a scar and I’ll tell you about it.” He offered, spreading his arms and tilting his head back to expose his neck. He rolled up his sleeves, and she blanched.

Because they were covered in a myriad of scars, much more noticeable then the ones on his wrists and eyelids. Even his palms had scars.

She ran her eyes over his bare skin and tried to not feel like a stalker.

“Uhm…”

She considered.

Before finally pointing at his wrists.

“Those ones, that look like chains.” She said.

He curled his arms in again and tilted his head back down.

For a moment, his expression was thoughtful.

“...Alright. Okay, okay.”

He rolled his nails against the tabletop, once, before beginning.

“So, me and my brothers, Huey and Dewey, were really deep in this cave - there was a river in it, absolute deathtrap, I tell ya.

“So, we were in this cave, and the river was loud as all hell next to us. Just  _ screaming _ past. We could hardly hear each other, even though we were practically screaming. And we came up on this big-ass gate, all rusty metal and frayed links.

“So, we climb over it, obviously. Dewey helps me up, I shamble over, rinse repeat until we were all on the other side, ready to keep adventuring.

“We keep walking.

“Until we come up on this massive shade. All black and red, like tar and blood haphazardly mixed. Its long limbs - well, I say limbs, they seemed like legs too long and tentacles too thin - anyway, they were crawling along the walls, all covering this portion of the cave.

“Now, we’ve taken on things like this before. But this had seemed like an easy grab when we went in, and we didn’t have all our equipment.

“So we run like hell.”

Louie’s voice had taken an odd timbre, and his eyes had drifted. They were starting to look oddly foggy - and the golden scars almost looked like they were crawling along his skin, looking for a comfortable place to sit.

Webby began to feel a creeping foreboding take root in her mind.

“We run and run and run.

“We get back to the gate. The brothers shamble over, I boost them. I think they blame themselves for what happened to me, for letting me boost them and go last, but they didn’t have time to think, with this thing on our backs. I had just been ready for the gate. I knew I was willing to go last.

“I didn’t make it over in time.”

She was on the edge of her seat, trying to ignore the foreboding. She was utterly gripped.

“How did you make it?” She breathed.

Louie smiled softly at her. This one didn’t even look like it was trying to reach his eyes.

“Spoilers, Webbigail.”

She didn’t manage to fake pout. Not with that awful smile still on Louie’s face.

His eyes drifted again.

“So, it got me.”

He stared off into the distance for a long moment, looking knee-deep in memories he’d rather not think about.

“I… fought it off.”

She leaned in. “How?”

He considered.

“...It didn’t expect its prey to be… like me.

“It preyed on my fears. I think it might’ve been a fear spirit incarnate, actually. But I’ve dealt with things like that before.

“I fought it.  _ Hard. _

“It slipped up.

“I say  _ it, _ because calling it psychopathic wouldn’t be quite right. But calling it male or female would be wrong, too. It felt pain. I could tell.

“See, it infuses its prey with magic to submerge them in terror. It was built with the assumption that the person in question couldn’t make use of that magic. And I shouldn’t have been able to.

“But fear does things to people, Webby.”

He no longer looked like he knew where he was.

Webby was starting to regret asking for this story.

But she wasn’t, because this was  _ fascinating, _ even if she hated seeing Louie in memories so deep.

“...I managed to get ahold of the magic.”

His gaze, drifting before, locked onto his wrists, held up to the light.

“I don’t know why it escaped like it did. Through my wrists and eyes. Maybe it got in through there. I dunno.

“...The thing died. We got the treasure and got outta there.”

His hand fell limply to the table.

There was a long pause.

Suddenly, Louie looked at her again, and smiled sheepishly. It even looked a little real.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bummer.”

She shook her head instantly, holding her hands up in a ‘no, no’ gesture.

“No, no, you weren’t! No, it was  _ fascinating!” _

Louie chuckled, and it sounded remarkably genuine.

“That’s just what Huey said when he got over it.”

He pulled his chair back. The screech seemed to dispel the odd tension in the air.

“Anyway. Maybe next time I’ll have a more cheerful one for you, alright?”

His hand touched her shoulder, and lingered for a moment. He hesitated, like he wanted to say something.

“...See you tomorrow, Webby.”

She started.

Glanced at her watch.

_ Yes! _

“Actually, um-” Louie paused, hand on the doorknob. “I was wondering if you could walk me home again?”

She had been wondering no such thing, but this was the perfect opportunity to get to know him better!

“...Sure, why not.” He said eventually, and opened the door for her.

She sent him a grin as she dashed out.

* * *

They talked the whole way. Webby didn’t ask any questions about his scars. Louie answered everything with his usual aloofness.

By the time they made it to Webby’s apartment, Louie’s smile had reached his eyes again.

Webby couldn’t’ve been happier with that result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, updates will usually not be this frequent. Probably.
> 
> If you're curious, Webby and Louie are both twenty-one in this.
> 
> When I say that there's 'minor' Louie/Webby, I mean in the long term. The endgame here is Lena/Webby. But I plan for there to be a lot of story to go through, and I don't plan to have Lena even show up for a decent bit of it, so Louie/Webby is actually going to get a decent amount of focus in the early game here.
> 
> Woo-oo,
> 
> -Howard R.


	3. It's A Date

Dewey was already starting to feel like the world’s worst brother.

Maybe he needed a t-shirt with that on it. In big, blocky red letters.  _ World’s Worst Brother. _ Maybe he could teach Scrooge to knit - old people liked knitting, right? Yeah. Yeah, good ole’ miser Scrooge could make it for him. He probably wouldn’t even ask what it was for - everyone knew he was the worst brother ever.

He was an awful brother.

Louie hadn’t come home.

Huey had said he wasn’t sleeping in any of the McDuck property, either. He certainly couldn’t sleep in any of the factories he owned. Louie didn’t have his own apartment, as far as they knew.

So none of them had any idea where he was.

Because Dewey had wanted a ring.

_ Worst. Brother. Ever. _

Louie did this sometimes. Ran off into nowhere. Vanished. Sometimes he just needed some time alone, and everyone just kinda understood that. Even Scrooge picked up on it fairly quickly. The longest stretch he had ever gone away from home was after Mom abolished his company - that one had caused Mom to nearly have a panic attack, too. 

But it had never been because of  _ him. _

Even though he was, objectively, the worst brother ever.

World’s Worst Brother.

“Stop sulking.” Huey said suddenly, from his little corner. He was jotting something down in his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook.

“I’m not sulking.” Dewey murmured, because he  _ wasn’t. _ He was just... in a thoughtful mood.

“I didn’t ask if you were. I told you to stop. Louie’s fine, and he’ll come back. Like always. He just needs his space, you know that.”

“Yeah, but…”

_ But this time I made it happen. _

“But nothing.” Huey said, scratching off a sentence with a single brutal motion. Louie had obsessively taught Huey to scratch off sentences instead of erasing them about three years ago, when he saw how meticulous Huey had been when erasing. Huey had resisted, but Louie was very persuasive.

Huey sent him a glance, tucking a stray hair behind his ear with his golf pencil.

“Let it go. He’ll come back, you’ll apologize, we’ll hug, and it’ll all be fine again.”

Dewey hoped he was right.

* * *

“Oh, right, I meant to ask you something.”

Webby glanced back at Louie, who was standing out on the street. He stuck his hands back into his pockets, casually - and looked like he was totally happy to let the world pass him by, while he just sat and watched.

  
That was one of Louie Duck’s many talents. He had this strange power to just… blend in. Watch the world like it was a movie. Watch people like they were actors on a stage, and totally disconnect himself from everything. It was something she’d see him doing, when she first saw him sitting at his usual table. Watching the window, chair tilted back and head against one of his hands, and just let everything roll past like clouds.

Webby wished she could do that, sometimes. Let the world pass by, without wanting to influence it. It was something she was incapable of.

She wanted to leave a mark on everything she saw.

“What’s up?” She hummed, scuffing her heel against the concrete.

She’d been looking for a chance to use that phrase. It was a good one.

“Wanna go explore a cave that might have some treasure in it tomorrow? Should be an easy grab.”

She stared.

This was a problem.

She’d done this since she was a little kid, apparently. Just… shut down, whenever something so awesome she couldn’t comprehend it happened. Going to a water park for this first time had caused this kind of reaction.

“...Webbigail?” Louie said, peering at her with something resembling concern - though a little too aloof to come across as really  _ worried. _

She blinked.

Tried to jump-start her brain.

Failed.

And then, something in Louie’s face  _ changed. _ Subtle, barely there - but odd and shifting enough that she couldn’t quite miss it.

He smiled easily, and shrugged.

Nothing was wrong with it.

And yet, there was something wrong.

“Alright. Nevermind. See you tomorrow, Webby.”

And  _ that _ kickstarted her brain  _ hard. _

“No! Oh God,  _ would I? _ Yes! I -  _ ahem _ \- I’d love to go on an  _ adventure into a creepy cave-” _

_ Calm down, Webby. _ Some voice that sounded suspiciously like Granny whispered in her ear.

She smoothed out her voice as best she could.

“Uh. I mean. Sure, that’d be cool.”

Louie blinked.

And then, the tiny smile on his face became just a little tinier.

But it touched his eyes this time.

“Awesome. Meet me by the woods at the edge of town when you get off work.”

“Will do!” She grinned, because screw being calm, she was going spelunking with  _ Louie Duck!! _

“It’s a date.” Louie said, already turning away, and suddenly this became a far less open-and-shut case.

A… a  _ date? _

He hadn’t said anything about a date.

Not a word. Date had never even entered the conversation.

Had he been flirting with her? Had there been signs? Crap, Granny hadn’t taught her about this, she’d never been on a date - had she just  _ accidentally _ agreed to her first date?

* * *

_ Brrring. _

_ Brrring. _

_ Brrri- _

“Louie?”

“I win.”

“Louie, I wanted to say I’m sorry about-”

_ Click. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Sorry. 
> 
> Next time we should get some cave shenaniganary with Webby and Louie. Fun times all 'round.
> 
> Woo-oo,
> 
> -Howard R.


	4. *You* Have Beautiful Eyes!

Louie Duck always has his hands in his pockets.

Alright, that’s a lie. Webby’s seen him take his hands out of his pockets, of course. But his habit of sticking them right back in is only really striking her as odd right now - stepping up to the forest bordering Duckburg, and still wondering if this is a date.

Because Louie has his hands against his pockets, and he’s leaned very casually against a tree.

She hoisted the pouch draping across her torso a little, and wondered if maybe a granola bar would help her nerves. Or if she should just  _ ask _ Louie if this is a date.

Is there some way of telling? She still isn’t sure, she should’ve done some research. Maybe flirting or a lack thereof? But she isn’t sure what counts as flirting - what’s just a friendly compliment and what isn’t? It’s especially hard to tell with Louie, who’s never easy to read to begin with.

Before she can come to a single solid conclusion, Louie glances up and smiles at her. She can’t quite tell if its fake.

“Webbigail. You made it.” He sounded quite pleased.

She smiled back, hoisting up her bag even if it didn’t really need any more adjusting.

“Yep! And I brought granola bars!” She said, quite confidently. She had considered sandwiches, too, but she thought maybe that was coming on a little strongly.

Louie’s smile softened, and his eyes crinkled.

“Really?”

“Yep!”

He tilted away from the tree and did a lazy pirouette, trotting over to her. She couldn’t help but giggle at him.

He peered at her bag.

“Got any for ole’ Louie?”

She dug into her bag, and pulled out a granola bar at random.

He took it, glancing at the package and raising his eyebrows.

“Mm. Not a bad choice, Webbigail.” He ripped the top of the pack off with his teeth, and took a bite. “Hah! Chocolate chip, too. Louie approves.”

“Louie needs to refrain from talking about himself in the third person.” She said instantly, half on instinct.

And, to her shock, Louie bust out laughing.

It was an odd sound. She’d never really heard Louie laugh before - a half-snort or triumphant ‘hah’, sure, but a full  _ laugh? _ Far too… boorish a display for Louie, if she wanted to put it like a eighteenth century sea captain.

But this was a laugh. A full one, that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but genuine. It had an odd, dark sound too it, even under the happiness - something smoky and crackling, like sheets of ash. It sounded almost like Louie was coughing up something awful - like he was letting out every bit of negative emotion in his lungs.

She didn’t mind it.

It was a nice laugh.

“I- I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He chuckled, sticking his hands in his pockets again. There was still a pleased tilt to his lips. “This cat has claws.”

“Rowr.” She offered, raising her hands.

He smirked.

“Woah there, kitten. It’s the first date - maybe put them away for now, huh?” He finished, trotting off into the woods already.

_...So this is a date? _

_ Is this flirting? _

_ Did I just flirt? _

_ Was I any good at it? _

She filed the questions away far,  _ far _ in the back of her mind, and went after him.

* * *

Louie was in a damn good mood. The best since he’d started this stupid bet.

Webby was shaping up to be even more fun then he’d thought. She had wit, too - wit that he hadn’t seen before. He hoped it was because she was getting more comfortable with him. As nice as it was having fangirls - and it  _ was _ nice - he far preferred having his actual girlfriend be at least somewhat likable. And clever. Webby was shaping up to be both of those things, and he couldn’t have been happier.

Plus, that had been his first laugh in weeks. It might’ve been mostly because Webby had caught him off-guard, but. Still.

Oh. Right.

“You might need this.” He said, digging around in his pockets and pulling out a spare dagger.

Yes, spare. It never hurt to have weapons on hand.

“Oh!” Webby chirped, glancing at it. “That’s alright - I’ve got one in my bag.”

He blinked.

Glanced at her.

“Really?” He said, tilting his head softly. It was a gesture he had picked up after the whole ‘nearly getting killed by a tentacle-fear-spirit-thing’ incident.

“Yep!”

As if to prove it, she reached into her bag and pulled out a wicked-sharp knife.

“...May I?” He said, gesturing to it.

“Sure!”

She held it out to him. He took it - ignoring that she had handed it blade-first. He was willing to ignore the discourtesy, since it clearly wasn’t malicious in nature.

He ran a finger down the blade.

It was glass-smooth.

“...Not bad, Webbigail.” He said, flipping it over and handing it back to her. She took it and stashed it away in her bag again.

“Thanks! It was my granny’s. She gave it to me on my fifteenth birthday - it was from her secret agent days.”

She explained this like it was the simplest thing in the world.

He peered at her.

“...You’re something else, huh Webby?”

She blinked.

“Am I?”

He nodded thoughtfully. They should be coming up on the cave now.

“Yeah. You’re pretty… what’s the word I’m looking for? ...Right, dope.” He grinned at her. “You’re pretty dope.”

She beamed.

“Thanks! You’re pretty dope too, Louie!”

He snorted.

“Eh. I prefer you, actually. You’ve got a sharper knife.”

And it was true. His knife might be better for cutting vines and foliage in their way, but her’s would defend them from any actual  _ threats. _

Oh, and his least favorite person was definitely himself, so.

“Plus, you’re cuter.” He said instead, pasting on a smirk. Webby blushed to her roots, and it managed to make him actually smile.

He was about to move on, turning back in the direction of the cave and getting ready to tell Webby they were close - but the girl in question cut him off at the pass.

“I dunno. Personally, I’ve always preferred brunettes.”

_...Oh. _

To his horror, he felt an uncomfortable heat crawl up his neck.

He was actually  _ flattered. _

...Maybe Webby was even more witty then he’d hoped.

He turned to Webby - who was grinning widely, and maybe a little smugly.

Well. That just wouldn’t do.

He smirked. It was even a real one this time.

“You’ve got better teeth, though.”

Webby’s smile widened.

_ “You’ve _ got the awesome scars.”

“You’ve got the nice skin.”

“You’ve got the pretty smile.”

He refused to be flattered.

_ Refused. _

He was winning this fight.

“But whose got a sharper knife?” He said - because he knew her well enough to flatter her.

And, indeed, Webby looked very proud for a moment.

But the next, she smiled, tiny and personal.

It was a nice smile.

“You have beautiful eyes.”

“...”

“Hah!” Webby said, incredibly triumphant - and he just stared at her, because  _ what. _

She grinned, victorious.

“Do not try to best me in a duel of compliments!” She called, smug and incredibly happy.

Finally, his brain kick-started.

He turned back to the cave, feeling the smirk slip off his face like sap. He didn’t even have the energy to fake one.

“Well. You can certainly lie better then I thought.” He allowed - and it was a genuine compliment. It had been a fight - she’d won. And if it was by lying, well. Louie was hardly one to judge. “I admit, I didn’t give you enough credit, Webbigail.”

* * *

_ Huh? _

She couldn’t be preoccupied by how fun flirting was, or how good at complimenting Louie was - because Louie apparently thought she was lying about one of her compliments, and that was just plain  _ wrong. _

“Huh? I didn’t lie.” She said, trotting up so she was across from him as he walked.

He sent her a glance.

For the smallest second, something shifted in his features. Something vulnerable - something she’d never seen on his face before.

And then it was gone.

“Mm. We should be coming up on the cave now.” Louie said, turned firmly away from her. “You probably shouldn’t have to use that knife, but keep it handy just in case. You never know.”

“Louie…”

She reached for his shoulder.

Hesitated.

And rested her hand there.

Louie froze.

She refused to let go.

A lull.

“...Webby, you should let go.”

His voice was very flat.

And yet, it wasn’t quite a threatening tone. More… warning. Cautious. Closed.

“Why?” She whispered.

Silence.

He shrugged her hand off.

“...It should be right through here.”

She practically heard the iron walls close again.

She thought that maybe, she would never really  _ know _ Louie.

...But if you don’t succeed.

“Alright.” She said, trying to look for a way to salvage this.

_...Ah-ha! _

She rooted through her bag - and found a granola bar.

“Granola bar?” She offered, holding it up. “It’s smore flavour.”

Louie glanced at her - and, for a moment, he just looked incredulous.

She felt her insides freeze - but refused to back down.

And then, his face softened, nearly imperceptibly.

“No thanks. Granola gets tiring fast, y’know?” He said quietly, with a tiny smile.

She shrugged, feeling her anxiety melt.

“More for me, then!” She chirped happily, ripping the bar open and taking a bite.

The warmth of sweetness mixed well with the warmth of relief.

Louie chuckled.

“Sugar fiend.” He said under his breath.

She offered her best fake glare, mouth still full of oats and marshmallow.

He smirked back.

And, just like that, the moment passed.

“Alright, we’re here.” He said, stepping over a last bush. She followed him, to reveal…

A cave.

A very nondescript cave.

...Well, spelunking was spelunking!

“Yay! We managed to not get lost!” She chirped, throwing her hands up easily. And it was truly an accomplishment - she’d never hiked through the woods before.

Louie smiled.

“True that, Webby. But maybe hold your cheers until we’re out with the treasure.”

She conceded the point, letting her arms drop - but only begrudgingly.

He snickered.

“Come on, don’t look so down. Celebrating feels better with treasure anyway.” He offered, holding out his arms like he was presenting her with the future celebration in question.

She felt her fake pout crack, and giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just like compliments, okay?
> 
> Seriously, try it. Just compliment someone you know today. It's fun.
> 
> (I mean, you don't have to, but. Y'know. Just throwing that suggestion out there.)
> 
> Woo-oo,
> 
> -Howard R.


End file.
